The Promise of Peace Read Free Page B

tears, and Morrigan’s heart stumbled. She hadn’t seen the boy cry since their father’s funeral. She’d known Keifer didn’t want to leave Dunstruan, but perhaps she’d misjudged how deep his feelings ran.
    He didn’t speak to her, just turned and heaved another rock into the lake. A gentle breeze ruffled his curly red hair.
    Morrigan wished she could spare Keifer this upheaval. He would learn a hard lesson today, but learn it he must. Ceallach had returned from the war in Ireland to keep his promise to escort Keifer to Moy. “It’s time to leave, Keifer. Ceallach is waiting.”
    Another rock splashed into the lake. “I’m not going.”
    Morrigan didn’t argue, seeking instead words that would comfort while letting him know that he must eventually give in. “I know you don’t want to leave, but you must learn to be laird. One day you will take over the clan. You are Da’s only living son—the duty is yours.”
    â€œI don’t want to be laird. I want to be a soldier, a knight like Ceallach.” This was not a new argument. Ever since their earliest days at Inverlochy, Keifer had made his wishes known. However, King Robert the Bruce had disinherited their Uncle Angus and his son— first casting them out of Scottish-held territory and then imprisoning Angus when he came back fighting. The Scottish king made Morrigan head of the Macnab clan until Keifer came of age. But Keifer remained adamant that he wanted to be a knight, not a laird.
    Morrigan said, “Adam Mackintosh is a knight, Keifer. ’Tis an honor to be fostered by the laird of the largest federation of clans in the highlands.”
    â€œBut he doesn’t know how to joust or, or . . . he can’t teach me to use the claymore.”
    Keifer was right about that—Adam Mackintosh had been gravely wounded years back. Though still an admirable adversary with a broadsword, Adam’s fighting abilities were limited. “Aye, that’s true. But his warlord, Seamus, can teach you to use any weapon. He will teach you the ways of the highlands, and Adam will teach you to be a laird.”
    Morrigan put her hand on the boy’s shoulder. “And you will be safe at Moy, should Uncle Angus be released from prison.”
    With a shrug of his shoulders, Keifer went back to throwing rocks.
    Plink. Plop.
    Morrigan sat down on the log and looked out over the peaceful loch. Would Keifer tell her what else weighed so heavily on his young shoulders? Was it only the prospect of being sent away or something more?
    She said, “You look like you lost your favorite toy.”
    Panicked, he reached into the folds of his plaid and pulled out the leather-bound ball Ceallach had made, looked at it, and carefully put it back. “No.” He threw another rock, with less force this time, then sat down next to her, resting his chin in his hands. “Why can’t I stay here?”
    She wanted to put her arms around him, shelter him, keep him close, just like her mother did with him. But he would not appreciate the gesture. And he could not stay. For his own good, he must go to Moy. She feared Keifer would be a virtual prisoner here. At Moy, he could have a more normal life. “I’ve told you. I cannot protect you here—too many men loyal to Uncle Angus remain nearby. Adam and his warlord can train you to be a laird.”
    â€œFergus could train me.”
    â€œMuch as I admire Fergus, Keifer, ’tis a fact he grew up as a servant at Homelea. He’s an able steward but doesn’t have the training to lead a clan.”
    â€œCeallach then.”
    Morrigan drew upon her patience. “He is a wonderful soldier and he is learning to be a laird—”
    â€œBut I want to be a soldier like him.”
    â€œWar has already exacted a heavy price from our family. No more. You need to learn to lead the clan. And I need you to be safe. You could learn much